Tears
by Amazon Life
Summary: Future!fic. Cameron and 13 are living together, when 13 starts dislpaying the first symptoms of Huntington's chorea. Inspired by the song Tears, by Rufio. Chap. 6 part 2 aka grand finale is up! Which means this is finally COMPLETE!
1. Goodbye Tears

**A/N: **Inspired by the song _Tears_,by Rufio_._

This is, for now, a one-shot. However, I've been thinking about writing more chapters. How do you feel about that?

This fic takes place about 4 years after the 5th season finale.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own House, M. D. or any of the characters in it, unfortunately.

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I felt my first tremor today, my first twitch. _Chorea_ is starting. I know that, from now on, I'll start degrading, down-spiraling fast. And I know I can't do this to her.

Not after all she's given me. Not when I love her so much.

She's lost her first husband already, and I know the pain it caused her. I can't stand the idea of being the one to make her feel it all over again. I can't.

I enter what has been our home for the last three years, and find her sound asleep on the couch. It's over 2 am; she must have been worried: I'm not usually out that late, and I always let her know when I am.

But not today. Today, I'm not late because House kept me at the hospital. I'm late because I needed to drink. I needed alcohol in my system to do what I am about to.

And I'm secretly glad she's not awake. That way, I won't have to look into her sad eyes as I say goodbye. My last memory of her will be the lovely, smiling face I saw this morning, her green-blue eyes glittering as she kissed me.

I walk silently into our bedroom, trying not to wake her. Silently still, I gather my stuff. Just the essentials: a few clothes, hygiene products, and pictures; my personal pictures, of my childhood, my family, and of the two of us. I need something to keep me going on my own. I need something to keep me from calling her, from coming back, and I hope looking at pictures of her will do.

I stuff all of it in a suitcase and walk to the front door. However, as much as I know I should leave as fast as I can, I can't resist heading to the couch where she lies.

I sit on the floor beside her and watch her sleep. I don't want to go, I don't want to be apart from her, but I have to. So I seize these last moments.

I talk to her while she's asleep. I recall our best moments together, and thank her for them. I know she can't hear a word, but something inside me tells me she knows all that I'm saying by heart, as if she could hear everything.

I look at her and watch her leave my life forever. I'm the one going away, but, when it comes to my life, I'll remain stuck with it, and she's the one leaving. She's here beside me, but I already feel her far away.

I try saying my last words to her, but nothing comes out. Then, I tell her that I care, and nothing more. There are no words to express how I feel, so I simply cry.

I feel the tears forming and I try to stop them from falling, but I can't. This pouring rain from my eyes is just too much to keep inside.

And the tears streak down my face in a silent cry. Tears that show my mixed emotions: fear, sadness, longing, love, and so many other feelings I can't even name. Tears that are so much more than just tears.

I get up, turn around, and walk away from my love.

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So, should I go on?


	2. Tears of Loneliness

**A/N:** So, I'm actually going on with this, thanks to your reviews! You guys are great! Which means this is my very first attempt at writing something with chapters. Please, let me know how I'm doing, since I don't have a beta...

Also, **GenteelJoint**, you actually guessed what I was going to do with this chapter... lol

**SwordOfTheJedi**, they do say Thirteen has about ten years left, but, with her CAG count being really high, she might have less than that (according to _Lucky Thirteen_), specially since her nerve degeneration has already started (as said by Foreman in _Let Them Eat Cake)_. I'm not that familiar with Huntington's at all, although I did a bit of research, and, according to what I've read, life expectancy in patients with high CAG counting is about 8-10 years after the display of the first symptoms, which would lead us to think that she's already about to develop them... However, I'm not exactly sure about that information. Can anyone confirm it? I might have to change the dates if that's wrong, so, thanks for pointing it out to me! =)

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I wake up in the morning and realize I must have fallen asleep on the couch as I was waiting for Remy. I frown at that, because, if I'm still in the living room, it means she still hasn't come home. If she had, she'd certainly have woken me up to go to bed with her. I bet House is keeping her there on purpose. He definitely knows that the best way to get on my nerves is to affect her.

I pick my cellphone up from the center table and call her. Her cell is turned off; she probably forgot to recharge it, she always does that.

I get up, feeling a little sore from the bad position I slept in, and heat to our bedroom to shower and get ready to work. At least, I know I'll see her in an hour or so.

As soon as I walk through the door, I notice something's wrong. The closet is open; the brown suitcase is missing, and so are many of her clothes; the picture frames are empty. I run to the bathroom and see her toothbrush is no longer next to mine. And I realize she's gone.

I walk back to the bedroom, dragging my feet as that thought sinks in. I let myself fall onto the bed, our bed, the bed where we'd slept together for the last three years, the bed where we cuddled with each other, where we made love to each other.

I remember all the moments we shared together, as a movie playing in my hear. I remember our first kiss, on the night I told Chase I couldn't stand our marriage anymore. I simply left and ran to her. We weren't that close, but I just knew I could count on her.

She invited me into this very apartment. She gave me a glass of water to calm me down. She listened to me ranting about how I didn't love my husband, how we argued every single day, how I wanter more from life. Her face was blank: no pity, no judgment, nothing. Then, she leaned in and kissed me. And I kissed her back, because, just from her kiss, I could feel she cared.

And we had lived together ever since. At first, it was just temporary, until I could find my own place. But, as we grew closer and closer to each other, we both realized we didn't want to live apart from each other. So I stayed.

But now, apparently, she doesn't want to live with me anymore. She doesn't want to be with me, and I can't understand why. I try thinking of any possible reason, but I can't find one.

I haven't seen it coming. I haven't noticed anything different in our relationship lately. And I blame myself for that. Surely, it has to be my fault. She probably needed more from me, and I wasn't able to give her that.

I blame myself for being such a heavy sleeper. If I had woken up when she came to grab her things, I could've reasoned with her, begged her to stay, promised I'd pay more attention to her... I could've done, I would've done anything to keep her close to me.

But it's pointless thinking about that now. She's gone. Gone. I'm alone. And suddenly, I can't think of anything anymore. So I simply cry.

I cry, and it isn't a soft cry at all. My whole body shakes with my sobs. And then, I scream, I yell with all my lungs. I can barely breathe, but I keep yelling; I can't control myself.

And that's how Foreman finds me, when he comes by to see why neither of us had showed up at work today. He talks to me, asks questions, but I don't hear him. He hugs me, tries to calm me down, as I keep repeating over and over: "She's gone". That is all I seem to know how to say.

During that whole day and that whole night, tears never stop flowing from my eyes. I cry until they go dry, until I get numb.

She is gone.


	3. Solitary Tear

I drive until I find a hotel far enough from our apartment that she wouldn't think of looking for me there. I don't want to be found.

I get myself a room, unpack the little I have brought with me, throw myself onto the bed and fall asleep almost immediately. I'm exhausted from the emotional breakdown I've just had.

I wake up the next morning, and feel nothing. Absolutely nothing. No headache, no hunger, no sadness, no fear, nothing. I'm completely numb.

I notice it's already afternoon, and I haven't gone to work. I needn't worry about that anymore: no-one needs a doctor who can't even start a fucking IV.

I call my father and tell him about my tremor. He is worried, and I can feel the pain in his voice. He comes by and insists that I move back in with him. I am too numb to argue, so I just pack everything again, and off we go.

I get my things settled in my old bedroom. I haven't been inside it for years, but it doesn't cause me any feelings. He forces me to eat something. Then, he sits on the couch and I lie down, resting my head on his lap as I used to do when I was little, when my mom was rude to me because of the disease and he tried to give me some comfort. He strokes my head until I drift to sleep.

I dream of Allison. It's a nightmare, actually: she's angry, yelling at me because I dropped her china teapot. I try reasoning with her, saying I'm sorry, trying to explain it wasn't my fault, but she won't listen. She turns her back to me and walks away. When I try to go after her, I realize I'm in a wheelchair. I wake up suddenly, covered in sweat, and I'm sure I've done the right thing leaving.

A week later, I remember I have to resign officially. I write a resignation letter that says nothing about my real reasons for quitting. I simply say that I would like to have a different job experience somewhere else. Of course, I know that whatever I write will reach her almost immediately after I hand the letter in.

I am careful enough to remember Allison's shift schedule and chose a day when I'm sure she's off. I drive to PPTH, trying not to think about the fact that I'm just abandoning all that matters to me, all that has been important in my life in the last few years.

I enter by a side door, avoiding the ER in case I messed up on the dates. I find House in his office, and he seems amused to see me. He comments he's glad I finally remembered I have a job, in his usual mocking tone. I simply place the letter on his desk and walk away.

I hear him shouting after me, asking whether I got tired of monogamy. It hurts me; I feel a pang in my heart when I realize Allison might be thinking the exact same thing. But I don't turn back to face him; I don't even bother correcting him, as I wouldn't know what to say. Maybe, it's better if everyone thinks that's what happened. So I just ignore him and go on.

As I drive back to my father's house, a single tear falls down my cheek. Alone, solitary, just like me.


	4. Blinding Tears

**A/N: **So, here's one more chapter. Sorry for taking longer than usual to update, my Uni exams are killing me!

Thanks again for the great reviews! I appreciate them a lot. =)

For those who have asked and/or are wondering, this isn't the last chapter. I'm thinking about one or two more, but I'll be sure to let you know when I reach the end.

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The days go on, and I watch the time pass before my eyes. I don't actually live, I just exist; I exist somewhere, sometime, as in a different dimension.

Cuddy gives me one week off, so that I can recover, after I nearly kill a patient by forgetting to dissolve the concentration of his medicine. Apparently, I've lost my capacity to care, to help, to do good. Somehow, I don't even care about that.

My brother calls me everyday and tries to cheer me up, to make me laugh. I appreciate his effort, but it doesn't have much of an effect on me.

I force myself to eat at least once a day, but I don't feel hungry at all, and I can't even feel the taste of what I'm eating.

I never try calling her. I know she probably changed her number, and even if she didn't, I know her well enough to be sure she won't be answering it unless she's sure of who's calling, so even using a pay-phone wouldn't work. I think about borrowing one of our co-workers phones; they would gladly let me, but she wouldn't answer them either. So I give up without even trying.

I never thought I would be so weak. But then, again, I never thought I would be abandoned. Daniel left me, it's true, but it wasn't his will to do so; he didn't choose to die, and he loved me until the very end, the same way I loved him. With Chase, I wast the one who left, I was the one who didn't love back.

But Remy, she has left me. She has stopped loving me. Now, I feel worthless, unloved, alone. And I don't think I can stand this feeling.

Anyway, I force myself to move on, at least on the outside. One week later, I'm back to PPTH. I hope that, by focusing on my patients, I can forget myself and my pain.

A mere couple of hours after I start working, Foreman comes down to see how I'm doing. He's been a good friend to me, despite the fact that, years ago, I stole his girlfriend. He is engaged now, to a really nice girl, and I hope their marriage works out very well.

We go to the cafeteria to grab some coffee, and he leads me to a side table, looking for as much privacy as we can get. I don't understand his behavior, but then he says he has something to tell me. And he drops the bomb on my hands: Remy has resigned, with the intention of looking for a job somewhere else.

Of course, in the back of my mind, I already knew she was going to do it. In the end, I can't believe she would be so cold as to leave me without a word, disappear, and then come back to work as if nothing had ever happened between us.

But, deep down, I still had hopes that she would show up, that I'd be able to, at least, ask her for an explanation. And my hopes have just been shattered.

She has been around, she has been to the hospital, and hasn't bothered to come talk to me.

I can't even believe that was the woman I lived with for three years. I used to think I knew her better than anyone else, but now I feel like I never knew her at all, because the Remy I thought I knew would never be so indifferent to my feelings, so willing to forget all we've lived together.

We've been through so much, and we've always supported each other. She helped me get through my divorce. She helped me face my parents and overcome the fact that they turned their backs on me because I was with a woman. She helped me learn how to love again, lose my fear of getting involved (something Robert could never do, and that was basically the reason why our marriage failed).

And I know I've helped her as well. I've helped her come to terms with herself, with the fact that none of the treatments she tried had any effects on the progression of her Huntington's...And that's when it hit me.

Her Huntington's. The only thing that had prevented her from being in relationships for quite a while. The only thing that had made her fearful of getting serious with me, of letting me in, although we both knew she wanted to, as she showed it in every way she could.

My heart skips a bit with that sudden epiphany. My chest grows heavy, and I suddenly find it hard to remember how to inhale and exhale.

She must have started displaying the first symptoms. That would scare her to death, and would certainly make her question herself all over again if we should be together. We've had this conversation every time a treatment failed, and I had somehow managed to convince her, in all of them, that there was still a chance, that someone might still discover a new drug, that she was going to be fine and live with me for many and many more years.

But all of those arguments will mean nothing if she has showed any symptoms. A tremor, a twitch, small as it might have been, in her mind, will weigh much more than all the hope in the world, and could make her change her mind faster than a lightning. I know that. I see now that I was wrong: I do know her, after all.

And I know I have to find her. I know she needs me. She needs my love, she needs my help to carry the burden that is probably crushing her right now.

I don't know where she is, but it suddenly occurs to me that, in her hurry to go away, she left her address book behind, and her father's address is surely there. She must've told him where she was going to. I turn around, not caring to explain to Foreman the turmoil that's been happening inside my mind for the last minutes, and run out of the hospital and towards my car.

As I run, a wave of guilt comes over me, when I think about how selfish I've been in the last week, caring only about my pain, when she has been feeling pain even greater all alone, to protect me.

I hate myself for ever doubting her love for me. I hate myself for not being with her, for not thinking about it sooner, for being so fucking stupid and self-centered.

Hot, angry tears gush from my eyes, blinding me, but I keep running. I've got to get to her as soon as I can; I cannot waste a single second.

I never see anything coming in my direction. I only realize something hit me when I am already on the ground. My whole body aches terribly for a few seconds, but then, everything just goes black, and the pain fades away.

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**A/N:** Why are Cameron's chapters always longer than Thirteen's ones? lol


	5. Tears of sorrow

**A/N:** So, how's it been? Hope you're all fine!

My exams are _finally_ over, so that means I'll have more time to write and move on with this. I'm guessing, however, that next chapter will probably be the last one. I've already put them through enough drama already... or have I? *evil grin*

Anyways, a big thank you to everyone who has been keeping up with me during this story! =) Hope I haven't disappointed you.

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I'm packing, for the third time in eight days. I'm going to travel around for a while; my father seems to think a change of scenery will be good for me, seeing beautiful things and all, and I guess I could actually use being away from all the places that just bring me memories of Allison.

The doorbell rings and I go answer, as we were expecting the Chinese-food delivery guy. But it's House. I wonder how he got my father's address, but, before I can ask him what else that PI told him about my life years ago, he's already telling me to _stop playing the hippie heartbreaker backpacker and drag my ass back to the hospital right now._

Because Allison is in a coma. And I'm still the closest to family she has around.

I start looking for my car keys, but he stops me, saying there's no time for traffic jam: we're going on his motorcycle.

We climb onto it and I grip the side holders, clenching my fists around it until my knuckles turn white. I clench my jaw as well, trying to prevent the tears from leaving my eyes. The last person I'd allow to see me crying is House. I'm relieved when he takes away, and I hope the sounds of traffic will muffle the eventual sniffles I can't hold back.

All the way to PPTH, I cry tears of anger at myself, and of fear for her life. I try convincing myself that my decision was indeed the right one, that I had to leave for her own sake, and that she'll wake up and be fine, and that I'll just be with her until she's recovered, and then I'll be strong enough to leave her again... but I don't think I have much success.

I have the distinct feeling that God is punishing me for abandoning the best gift He's ever given me, the only thing that makes me hold onto life itself. I couldn't take care of her, so He's taking her to Him.

I hop off the motorcycle before House even finishes parking, and run inside. Entering her room, I see Eric and Taub standing next to her bed; both raise their heads to look at me. Taub walks out, stopping briefly to squeeze my shoulder in a comforting gesture.

Eric remains by her bedside, and I position myself beside him. I look at her beautiful face, and she looks so frails in her sleep that I have to use all my strength to restrain myself from climbing onto bed and holding her like a child.

Eric cleans his throat, as if to remind me of his presence. I look up to meet his eyes, and they're full of concern. He tells me to sit down, and I don't really understand why, but do so anyway.

Then, he tells me what happened to Allison. He says all he did was telling her that I had resigned. Her face had gone blank for several minutes, and then she simply started running across the parking lot towards her car, without even looking where she was going. She was hit by a mother driving extremely fast, and also not looking at her way, trying to get her seizing daughter to hospital.

It is my fault, then. I have indeed caused this to her. I'm glad Eric made me sit down before telling me this, as the guilt and regret I now feel seems to weigh a thousand pounds, and I'm sure I would've stumbled and fallen under that.

I can't stop thinking that, even though I've tried to save her, I ended up killing her. I actually forget momentarily that she's still breathing, for the body I see in bed is so rigid and pale that it doesn't seem to have any life left in it. And I didn't even let her know how much I love her last time we talked. I might not get another chance to do that.

I can't even decide what exactly I regret: hurting her that much by leaving, or getting involved with her in the first place. I have fucking screwed her life, first emotionally, now physically as well. I seem to ruin everything I touch

I realize, in shock, that I already knew I'd break her right from the start. I have been trying to tell her that for all those years, but she would just push those thoughts out of my mind and convince me otherwise.

But right now, she's not here to do that. I'm alone to blame myself. I'm alone to hate myself. I'm alone.

Not like I've been in the last week, when I had her memory to keep me from giving up, to tell myself she would be fine, to make me think I was being noble and selfless, leaving her alone when I needed her the most, just to protect herself from pain.

Now, looking at her unconscious body, I feel there's nothing left to keep me going.

It's just too much, and the tears I have managed to hold back since I entered that room finally come out. I cry desperately, guttural sounds coming from my throat, like a baby who is in deep pain and isn't able to express that in any way other than crying.

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The days go by, one, two, three, ten, eleven. She still hasn't slipped out of the coma. I know the longer she stays that way, the slimmer are the chances of her regaining consciousness.

But it's not too long yet. I've seen people snap out of quite longer comas and be just fine, so I know it's still possible.

I never leave hospital. The guys bring me food and force me to eat. My father brings me clothes, and I shower as fast as I can, to go back to her bedside.

I spend hours and hours everyday just looking at her, holding her hand, tracing her delicate features with my fingertips. I start praying again, something I haven't done in years.

I pray for God to forgive me, forgive me for everything. For wanting my mother to die, for not helping my father cope with her death, for acting so reckless right after I found out I had Huntington's, for getting involved with Allison knowing I would hurt her, for effectively hurting her... And I ask Him for mercy. If not for me, at least for her. I ask Him not to make her pay for my mistakes.

But, even as I pray, I'm not exactly sure He's listening, because I don't feel the peace and the comfort that I should be feeling, that I used to feel when I was little and would pray for my mother to be healed. I know that's exactly why I stopped praying in the first place: she was never healed; He didn't listen to me.

I debate over and over in my head, and I still fell a little angry and humiliated every time I turn to Him. But I don't want to deprive Allison of any chance she might have to recover. So, if my humiliation can help bring her back, I know I would do it a thousand times, and it'll be worth it. Thus, I keep praying.

Until one day, when I'm praying, I start to cry. Tears simply streak down my face, and I don't even know exactly why. I don't make any sound, I don't move, I scarcely breath. I just stay there, sat by her bed, holding her hand, my eyes closed as the tears flow down.

And suddenly, I feel they're washing away all my shame, all my guilt. When the tears stop, I feel at ease. And I know He has been listening.

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**A/N:** Yay, a longer Thirteen chap! \o/

Any thoughts on it?


	6. A Thousand Tears Part 1

**A/N: **So, this is the last chapter. It took me that long to post if for two reasons: first, it's waaaaay longer that any other; second, I wrote it mainly during my classes, which means it was all _handwritten_ and I'm having to type everything. Lol.

So, in order not to leave you guys waiting (and, of course, to create a little more suspense XD), I'll upload it in two parts.

I'm not a doctor, and I've never talked to anyone who's been in a coma, so I don't know if my descriptions are accurate. Please, don't flame me about that; this is just a story.

Also, in this chapter, we're gonna have something new: … drums rolling... **dialogue!**

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The first thing I'm aware of is pain. Pain on my leg, on my ribs, and on my head. Then, I'm aware of the fact that I'm _feeling_ pain. I'm aware of the fact that I'm awake, although I don't really know exactly where I am.

I try moving, but, besides the pain, I feel that my whole body is stiff, as if I hadn't moved in a very long time. I try opening my eyes, but I feel too weak even for that.

Then, I remember I was running. I remember I was hit by something, and guess I'm at the hospital. I remember what happened before I was hit. And I remember Remy needs me.

This fact makes me gather the strength I need to open my eyes and try to say something, try to explain that I can't be lying on a bed when the person I love the most needs me by her side. Of course, no sound comes out of my mouth, but as I finish my scrutiny of the room I'm in, my eyes fall on the chair beside my bed, and on the sleeping woman on it.

The rational part of my brain tells me that I'm probably hallucinating due to the crash or any meds they might have given me. But emotion takes the best of me, and I don't even care whether what my eyes show me is real or not.

The simple vision of Remy close to me is enough to bring tears welling from my eyes. She can always make me quite more emotional than I would like to be, but I don't mind it in the least.

I see a nurse coming in. I've never seen her face before, so I don't think she's a hallucination. I wonder if she can see Remy too.

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I wake up to the nurse shaking me gently. I didn't even realize that I had fallen asleep. My eyes immediately turn to Allison, and what I see makes me jump to my feet in a millisecond. I get dizzy from the fast motion, but, when I look at her again, she's still looking back at me. Am I dreaming?

I reach for her hand, and I can definitely feel the warmth of her skin against mine. I wouldn't feel anything if it were a dream, right?

No, it's not a dream. Her fingers curl slightly around my hand, and I feel that too. She's definitely awake.

As I have done countless times in the last two weeks, I cry by her bedside. But this time, it's different. Right now, my tears are soaked with relief and gratitude.

He is listening, indeed.

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The nurse sees I'm awake and heads towards Remy. She can see her, after all!

She awakes from her nap and looks at me, and I don't think her eyes have ever been more beautiful than they are now. She takes my hand and I can feel her touch, the gentle, comforting touch I have been craving for so long.

She's real. She's here. She's with me.

I don't realize I'm crying again until she reaches up to wipe the tears from my face. Her hand lingers on my cheek, and I close my eyes to savor that sensation.

She whispers to me with the softest voice in the world. She tells me that it's okay, that I'm going to be fine, that she's there. Her voice cracks at the last statement, and I realize she's crying too.

She has her head right above mine, just a few inches away. Some of her tears fall from her face to mine and mix with my own.

Than, she says she's sorry. I can't stand it, as I should be the one apologizing. I clean my throat and hope my voice will actually come out this time, but I don't have enough time to try it out.

"Shh, don't try to speak yet". She gently presses two fingers on my lips to make her point.

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"Let me do the talking for now, okay?". I don't even try to stop the stream of tears anymore. I am just so glad she's conscious again, but I can't forget it's because of me she was hurt in the first place.

"I'm really, really sorry, baby, I'm sorry I left you, I'm sorry I hurt you so badly. I'm sorry for whatever it was that my actions made you think, that made you run like crazy and put yourself in danger. I'm sorry for all the pain that I've caused you, physical and emotional, and for every tear that you've cries over me."

I still don't tell her about my first tremor, or the two others I've had since. This is not the time to worry her.

Rationally, I still think she would be better off without me, but my rationality seems to be less and less dominant over my emotions these days. In my heart, I know we can't be without each other. I know I haven't received her back just to leave her again.

I look into her eyes, and they are full of love, even after everything I've made her go through. I told her not to speak, but, apparently, she's not taking it, as I can see her attempting to once more.

I don't try to stop her again. Deep down, I do want her to speak, I need to hear from her mouth that I'm forgiven.

"You have Huntington's."

Ok, that was definitely not what I was expecting to hear... and I'm not even sure what she means by that. Will she say she can't take it and she wants out? Will she say she forgives me because she thinks my leaving was the disease speaking?

I don't know, and I'm too afraid to ask. So, I do what I know how to do in these situations: I cover my fear with sarcasm.

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Remember, the story does NOT end here! The final chapter is divided in two parts, and this is only the first one. The second should be coming out in a few days.

Until then, reviews are always welcome, and anxiously expected! lol


	7. A Thousand Tears Part 2 FINAL

**A/N:** So, we've reached the very end of this story. This is by far the longest thing I've ever written, and I would like to give huge thanks to everyone who's reviewed, added to favorites, alerts and etc. for keeping up with me for so long and encouraging me to go on. You are really awesome! =D

Also, I should warn you that this is rather soppy. I'm not even sure it's in character, but anyways...

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"I could swear you'd already been aware of that fact for at least four years!"

Even now, she jokes about her disease. But I know her voice, I can distinguish the dryness and the slight hint of exasperation in it.

Of course, she still hasn't found out that I know. And she's still not willing to tell me herself. Guess I'll have to push it, then.

"You've started displaying symptoms".

As I expected, her face goes paler than paper, her eyes widen immediately. She never controls herself fast enough to lie when surprised, her expression always busting her out. Words cannot deny what her reaction has already admitted, and she knows that.

"Bu-but... how...?"

"Did the time you spent away from me make you forget how much we know each other? It took me way too long, but I eventually realized that that would be the only thing to make you leave me out of nothing, without a single word. This is what I was thinking before I was... hit. I was running because I needed to talk to your father and get to you as soon as I could. Remy, how could you leave like that? Didn't you think I would want to be with you?"

She lets herself fall onto the chair, still never letting go of my hand. She leans forward, resting her forehead on her other arm, which, on its turn, is resting beside me on the bed, in front of her.

She doesn't answer my question and silence reigns for about a minute. Then, I hear a sob, and another, and another, muffled by the mattress.

I see her shoulder shaking, the bones so visible under her skin. She hasn't been feeding herself well enough without me.

I free my hand from her grasp and raise it just enough to reach her head and rest it on it. As I do so, her sobbing increases. I don't try to shush her or make her stop crying; I know she needs to cry. Instead, I just stroke her hair.

When her breathing starts to even, it's my turn to say that I'm here, that I won't let her leave me ever again.

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"I'm dying, Allison. Not like in 'I'm getting older and someday I'll die'. I'm dying as in 'I'm degenerating before your eyes, and I have just a few years left, during which I'll be getting worse and worse every day'. Do you really want to see that? Do you really want to feel this kind of pain all over again?"

"Yes, I do. Of course, if I could really choose, I'd have the 'seeing you everyday', without the 'dying' part. But, as this is not possible, I'll _much_ rather have both than none. Because the pain I'll feel, and I won't deny I will feel pain, will certainly be _nothing_ compared to the joy of having you in my life, and to the pain I'll feel if you don't let me be with you until the very last second."

She's crying again, and I'm crying again. Fuck, when did we both get this sentimental?

I don't care. All I know is that I need her, I need her so much. I need to look at her, to be with her, to touch her. Every cell of my body craves for her every minute, and, being this close to her again, I don't think I'm strong enough to resist that temptation. And I have to tell her so.

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"I need you, Al. I can't be without you."

I know how hard it is for her to make that kind of confession. She's evolved so much, emotionally-wise, over the time we've been together, but she's still not very comfortable admitting she's not as self-sufficient as she's spent so many years trying to pretend she is.

I'm grateful she's doing that for me. I reach for her hand, feeling stronger by the minute. I'm not really sure if I'm recovering that fast, or if her presence is what's giving me strength. I intertwine our fingers, never taking my eyes away from hers.

"Rem, you don't have to be, ever. You have me. Always had, always will. We'll go through this together."

"What if you hate me when I start snapping and yelling at you all the time?"

I know her fears are motived: she knows better than I do how she's going to act a few years from now, and she knows how hard it's gonna be for everyone close to her. She even hated her own mother because of that, and she's never completely overcome the pain it causes her to know she didn't even say goodbye to her, because she was too angry for that.

But she was a kid; I'm not. I know what to expect, at least in theory, and I'm putting up with it out of my own volition, not forced like she was. And I'm sure I couldn't ever, for anything in this world, hate her, even if I tried to.

"When you snap, or yell, or anything similar, I'll remember all the sweet words you've already said to me. And I will love you, and I will take care of you, and I'll be grateful you're with me."

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She's the only one who has that effect on me. She can take all my fears and melt them away and calm me down with one look, one word, one touch. I cave in completely.

I promise my own self that, selfish as it might be, I won't ever leave her again. She's my whole life, my whole heart, and no-one can live without a heart. I should know.

I climb onto her bed, careful not to touch her left side, which might still be sore from the crash. I lie on my side and carefully slide one arm under her shoulder, bringing her head to rest on my neck. My other hand strokes her cheek lightly.

Lying like this with her, feeling the heat of her body against mine, I don't think I could ever feel a deeper and bigger love than I do right now.

And the last tears I cry this day are tears of joy.

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When she climbs onto my bed and nests herself beside me, I know I have won. I know I have convinced her, at least for now.

I also know this won't be the last time we have this talk. We'll probably repeat it after every time she has a tremor, a twitch, every time she drops something, or falls, or yells...

But I'll never give up. Every time we talk, I'll reason with her, I'll show her all over again that she belongs with me, no matter what. And I'll keep making her see that I'm right.

I know she can't ever deny me anything, and I'll even use that against her if necessary, but she won't ever leave me again.

She leads my head to her neck and I let it rest there, beaming at that contact. I wish I had a little more mobility so that I could curl into her arms, but I'll have to wait for that. I take what I can get. A smile forms on my lips as she strokes my cheek.

Lying like this with her, feeling the heat of her body against mine, I don't think I could ever feel a deeper and bigger love than I do right now.

And the last tears I cry this day are tears of joy.

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THE END!

I'd really appreciate some feedback of the whole thing, if you could take the time...

Thank you again for reading this!

See you again soon, hopefully. And I mean really soon, since I already have a few plot bunnies in mind. XD


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